


You Bring Me Home

by mslouhoo322



Category: Fine Line - Harry Styles (Album), One Direction (Band), Sweet Creature - Harry Styles (Song)
Genre: 2020 Pandemic Fic, F/M, One Direction flashbacks, Quarantine with Harry, slight angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-17
Updated: 2020-11-17
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:00:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27605251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mslouhoo322/pseuds/mslouhoo322
Summary: Maggie and Harry have been friends for a long time, but when the world comes to a halt due to a global pandemic and they end up quarantining together old memories are revisited and their friendship is tested.
Relationships: Harry Styles/Original Female Character(s)
Kudos: 7





	You Bring Me Home

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Changes](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/714463) by sunflowervolvimp3. 



> Hello all! I have been stuck in this pandemic for entirely too long and somehow became obsessed with One Direction and Harry Styles five years too late. This fic is my way of processing my obsession and hopefully, now that I've gotten it all down, I can begin to move on with my life*. Since I'm new to the fandom, please excuse any inaccuracies of tour dates, 1D drama dates, and anything else I may have gotten wrong.
> 
> *doubtful

****

**_2020  
_ **The house was entirely too empty for his liking. From a young age, Harry had been constantly surrounded by people: first, friends and family back at home, and then the rest of the members of One Direction, not to mention the hundreds of people on their touring team, and the millions of fans that had seemed to follow him and the boys around the globe in one indefatigable mass. Even after One Direction had disbanded, Harry had continued to surround himself with people, but now things had halted in a way he had never experienced before. The world was crippled by a global pandemic and Harry suddenly found himself very much alone in a house with too many empty rooms in a city thousands of miles away from his family.

He hadn’t been in isolation for long, but the days were already starting to melt together and Harry could tell that he would lose his mind if he didn’t find something or someone to keep himself occupied. He was already moving listlessly around his house, unable to focus on any worthwhile task - like writing more songs or even practicing old ones - and had taken to scrolling halfheartedly through his phone as though he could live vicariously through someone despite the fact that every human in the entire world was probably feeling how he was.

He had relocated to his kitchen to fix himself a cup of tea when his phone had first dinged.

**_MAGS: Am I the only one who feels like a background character in an apocalypse movie?_ **

Harry snorted, leaning heavily against the counter as the kettle began to heat. As always, Maggie seemed to be able to read his mind no matter how many or how few miles were between them. They had been friends for years, practically since the beginning of his fame. He had met her completely by accident on the LA streets when he had literally run into her, spilling his coffee all over her jacket. He had apologized profusely, but - aside from the usual reaction to his slow, thick accent - Maggie hadn’t seemed to realize who exactly she was talking to. She had accepted his offer of help, and they had gotten to know each other a little bit while he helped mop up the mess he had made. 

Years later Maggie had told him that she assumed that would be it - she had been accidentally attacked and then helped by a stranger and then she would never see him again. However, when a new jacket had arrived at her place of employment - at that time a small hole-in-the-wall restaurant in the heart of L.A. - along with another note of apology, and VIP tickets to the next One Direction show, Maggie said she realized she hadn’t just met a klutz on the street, but _the_ Harry Styles. To his utter bemusement, Maggie hadn’t been a One Direction fan. She only really knew their big songs because they were, and he quoted to her several times a year since, “ _utterly overplayed._ ” However, he saw her in the crowd that night in the VIP seats he had reserved specifically for her and hadn’t wasted any time embarrassing her in front of the thousands of fans and four other boys beside him. When security had brought her backstage after the concert at his behest, it was clear that a fast friendship was already set in motion. At least that’s what Harry told himself even as he felt the flip of his stomach whenever her smile was turned in his direction.

He felt a bit nostalgic - his chance meeting with Maggie wouldn’t even happen in this current world - and his fingers hovered over the keyboard as he considered what to type back to her. They had been through a lot together in their long friendship, but especially so in the past five or so years. Their friendship had been tested and pulled and, despite losing his mind a little, Harry was worried whatever scab that had formed over the wound of past mistakes had not fully healed. He read over her message again, blowing air out of his nose in a quiet huff of laughter. _Screw it. He needed her._ Disregarding the open keyboard, Harry pressed his thumb to the call button and held his breath.

“Harold?” She was quick to answer. Had she been staring at her screen like he had been?

“Mags,” he started, feeling slightly breathless, “I thought I’d call instead because I have a proposition for you.”

“Oh?" He could hear the apprehension in her voice and his gut tightened. Was she apprehensive because of his past as a compulsive trouble maker or was it because of _their_ past?

He swallowed and continued.

“‘M already losing my mind here,” he continued, hurrying forward to pull the kettle off the stove as it began to whistle, “What if you came to stay with me?”

The line was quiet for a moment and it was the longest moment he thought he had ever endured. He attempted to distract himself, prepping his tea and holding his breath.

“I don’t know, H,” she replied at last, “How long are we talking? A few days?”

He shrugged, “Or weeks. Or until this whole rubbish is over.”

She laughed and the sound was like music to his ears. He didn’t realize how much he missed the sound of laughter until he was stuck alone with his own thoughts. Unable to stop himself, he began to grin.

“I mean, not all of us are rockstars like you, Harry,” she said, “I’m still working from home.”

He scoffed, “Bring it with you. I have plenty of rooms for you to use as an office. If it helps you make a decision - I am fully stocked on snacks and booze and, if you say no, I may actually go crazy. Do you want that on your conscience?”

He heard her snort in laughter and the sound made his stomach flip.

“But what an amazing third album that would be, huh?” she laughed, “Alright H, you drive a hard bargain. Let me throw some things into a suitcase or two and I’ll be there in twenty.”

“Cheers,” he exclaimed, “I’ll send you a car.”

She scoffed at the extravagance - he could almost hear the eyeroll - and then the line was dead. He sipped his tea for a moment, squinting out the window. He wasn’t sure how, but he could almost swear the sun streaming through his windows felt a little brighter and maybe even a little warmer.

* * *

 **_2015  
_ **“Come on, just let me try it,” Maggie was whining, following Harry in circles around the table. Niall and Liam followed her progress, heads twisting on their necks, both boys laughing.

They had arrived in Los Angeles earlier that day, prepping for their concert that night. Throughout the tour Harry and Maggie had been in constant contact, but they hadn’t actually seen each other in person for awhile. Happy he had a reason to call Maggie other than just ‘ _because he felt like it’_ \- which was just a little too needy for Harry’s tastes - he was now starting to realize what kind of trouble he had gotten himself into. She hadn’t seen him in person in at least a year, as recording a new album and a world tour had kept them almost a world apart; not to mention that her studies as a Marketing major in her junior year of university had kept her incredibly busy. He had felt a tightness in his chest when she had first sent him a message letting him know that she had made it to the venue and that tight ball of anxiety had only squeezed harder when he saw her step around the corner into the open arena. He had grinned at her, feeling like an idiot for being so overwhelmingly happy to see her. She had graciously accepted all the hugs and cheek kisses from Niall, Louis, and Liam, but the second her eyes had fallen on Harry and - most importantly - his shoulder length hair, she had let out a shriek of surprise.

 _“Harry,_ ” she had screeched, rushing forward to wrap one curl of his hair around her pointer finger, rubbing her thumb against the silky strands. He stood frozen, blinking at their sudden closeness. “You didn’t tell me it had gotten _this_ long.”

He had shrugged sheepishly at her, his lips tugging up at the corner. His stomach was flipping as she craned her neck up to look at him, forever a head shorter than him. Her blue eyes found his green and he forced himself to look away from her before he said or did something stupid. From behind Maggie’s back, the boys had begun to make kissy faces at him - Louis had even turned his back to them, miming making out with a faceless woman. Harry ran a quick hand through his hair - pulling the strand out of her fingers - and, the second his hand had dropped to his side he quickly flipped them the bird and followed Maggie back towards their dressing room for a quick lunch before they had to go back to rehearse. 

It wasn’t until after the pizza had been eaten and the drinks exhausted that Maggie had made the suggestion that started this whole dance.

“Can I braid your hair?”

The whole room had fallen silent. Louis, on his way out to find the bathrooms, had shook his head chuckling. Niall, seated next to Harry, had gasped excitedly, glancing quickly between Maggie and Harry. Liam, leaned on the table next to Maggie, let out a bark of laughter, gazing back at Maggie as she continued to stare at Harry. She leaned heavily on her elbows eyeing Harry’s curly hair, and Harry pushed himself back on the chair, two legs off the ground, as though he were trying to put as much distance between himself and Maggie’s fingers.

“Come on, Harold,” Niall had said, laughing, “I would love to see you in a couple of pigtail braids.”

Harry had rolled his eyes, and ran a hand through his hair again, Maggie’s eyes following his fingers as they ruffled his curls. She had obviously taken his silence for consideration because she stood, hesitating slightly, her fingers skimming the tabletop, and took a quiet step around the table. This felt like a risk Harry wasn’t sure he wanted to take, so he had stood as well and began the dizzying trip around the table.

“You don’t have to wear it for the concert!” she called, as he ducked away from the table and out the dressing room door onto the open floor of the concert hall. “Just for rehearsal!”

Hearing her footsteps following behind him, he loped away into one of the hallways that lead towards the backstage nearly careening into Louis. He caught the shorter boy by the biceps to keep both of them from tipping onto the concrete. Behind him, Harry could hear Maggie catching up to him, slightly out of breath. For a moment he considered pleading with Louis for protection or a place to hide, but there was a gleam in Louis’ eye that made Harry realize he was fighting a losing battle. Before he could say anything, Louis had locked his arms around Harry, twisting him into a hold that had Harry spinning to face Maggie.

She looked triumphant: her brown, curly hair slightly frizzy, and her face rosy from her light jog. She planted her fists on her hips and smiled over Harry’s shoulder at Louis.

“Thank you Louis,” she said, and Harry craned his neck back to glare at the traitor.

“You’re a dead man, Tomlinson,” he hissed, but Louis just shook with quiet laughter.

“Oh, I’m quaking in my boots, Styles,” he returned.

“Now, H,” Maggie started again and Harry twisted back to look at her, “Can I _please_ braid your hair? I promise you it is not as bad as you think it’s going to be.”

Harry laughed humorlessly, hands still held behind his back. Maggie took a deep breath and a couple steps closer to him. There was a fierce look in her eye and it made his mouth dry.

“How about this? If, at the end of the process, you still feel like it was the worst experience of your life, I will do all your tour laundry the minute tour is over.”

He felt his eyebrows shoot up towards his hairline, “Are you sure you want to make that bet? That could get pretty nasty for you. We’re not even ending this tour in LA so I’m going to have to ship my dirty laundry to you and it will be extra disgusting when it gets there.”

She huffed and gave him a stern look. That blazing look in her eyes made his knees weak and he had to steel himself to keep them from failing him. What would Louis think if Harry fell to his knees in front of this woman?

“I am that confident,” Maggie said at last.

And that was how Harry found himself seated on the ground in front of the faded, green couch in their dressing room, in between Maggie’s knees as she took her time carefully combing through his hair, gently picking apart any tangles. His back was already beginning to ache as he sat so rigidly, determined not to enjoy any moment of Maggie’s fingertips carding through his curls. The boys, alternating between mocking Harry and mocking each other, kept stealing glances back at him, their smirks evident. Louis in particular looked incredibly smug, even going so far as to wink at Harry. Harry snarled back at him.

When Maggie had deemed his hair detangled enough, she replaced the comb with her fingers, her nails scraping across his scalp that sent tingles down his spine. The knowing look Louis was giving him now was a little _too_ knowing and Harry looked away, choosing instead to examine the carpet thoroughly as though his life depended on it. He cleared his throat and adjusted a little, the strain on his back easing as he pushed himself further against the couch and closer to Maggie. She was parting his hair down the middle and tugged at one pigtail, urging him to stay still. He bit down on the gasp before it was able to escape, but the pull of his hair had sent electric jolts down his spine that had his thoughts a confusing, jumbled mess.

"What are y’doing back there?” he murmured, not wanting to speak any louder for fear of his voice cracking or shaking for fear of the others realizing how exactly this was making him feel.

“I’m braiding your hair, Maggie replied, exasperated as though she had just told him the sky was blue or that water was wet, “Now sit still or your braids will be lopsided.”

They sat in comfortable silence for a moment, listening to the others. Liam was stealing glances back at him, smirking as Maggie began to weave. She laughed a little at Niall’s jokes, the sound making Harry smile. He didn’t have much experience with doing his hair - mostly he let it lay on his shoulders in a jumbled mess or he tossed it up in a messy bun - but even he was aware that this process was taking longer than it probably should. As she carefully braided his hair, the boys gradually lost interest. One by one they filtered out of the dressing room, following the sound of their tour manager’s voice as he called for them to resume rehearsing. Suddenly they were very much alone and Harry, still confused at the feelings roiling in his gut, felt nervous.

She tied off one braid and began to french braid the other side, her fingers at his scalp once again. Harry took a deep breath, his eyes fluttering closed as she leaned forward to keep an eye on her work. He could smell her perfume - a subtle hint of vanilla and something that reminded him of warm summer days at the beach - and he felt his head tip back further, putty under her fingers. The jolts were still zinging down his spine, landing in his groin, and he pulled his legs up to his chest in case something happened he didn’t want to have to explain. He heard her sharp intake of breath and realized he had curled his fingers around her ankle, just where her jeans raised and exposed the skin.

“Sorry,” he whispered and he released her ankle reluctantly

She cleared her throat, fingers still working down his scalp. “It’s ok. Was I hurting you?”

Her voice was nothing more than a murmur, but he thought maybe he could hear a slight tremble. The moment was fleeting, however, and then he was second guessing himself. Not wanting to dwell any longer on the feelings rising in his throat or the pull on his scalp, he coughed once and curled his fingers around her ankle again, wanting to feel her skin on his again no matter how infinitesimal. 

“No, you’re not hurting me,” he murmured low at last.

She didn’t reply, instead humming quietly to herself. Harry took another breath of the perfumed air around him, attempting to steady himself, and closed his eyes. Something about the song sounded incredibly familiar to him.

“Is that _What Makes You Beautiful?_ ” he asked, incredulously, attempting to sneak a glance back at Maggie. It awarded him another not so gentle tug on his hair and he had to bite his lip to stop himself from groaning.

“I told you to stop squirming!” she laughed, continuing the braid down the back of his skull. He suddenly missed the scratch of her nails at his scalp. 

There was a beat of silence and then she finally answered him, sounding sheepish. “I can’t help that that song gets stuck in my head. It’s so damn catchy.”

She tied off the second braid as he laughed and, now free to move his head without fear of hair pulling, he dipped his head backwards until it was laying partially against the couch cushion and on Maggie’s lap. She was grinning at him, her blue eyes crunching at the corners, and he could feel his lips curling at the corner in a crooked grin. There had been various points throughout their friendship where Harry had considered asking her on a date - something he had always chalked up to teenage hormones - but the request had somehow always gotten stuck in his throat. Maybe it was fear of rejection - something he hadn’t really had in a long time. Maybe it was fear of losing what he had - what if she said yes and then it didn’t work out? He didn’t think he’d be able to bear losing Maggie. She had been there for him for the good times and the world tours and supported him through the bad. She was his first call after his mother when Zayn had announced he was leaving the group to start his solo career and she had dropped everything to stay on the phone with him all night, talking through every single emotion he was going through. The night had cost her - her choice to support him over studying for an accounting exam had resulted in a failing grade - but she refused to accept his apologies.

“I’m always going to be here for you,” she had told him after waving away another set of apologies, “Accounting exams don’t matter in the grand scheme of things.”

Pulling himself from his thoughts, he focused back on Maggie. She looked like she wanted to say something, her smile fading slightly, but just as she was about to speak, Liam ducked his head back into the room. At the sight of the two complete french braids on Harry’s head, Liam began to laugh and it took a couple of minutes for him to calm down before he could get to the point.

“They’re ready for us all out here to rehearse,” he said between gasps of laughter, “Oh God, the boys are gonna love this.”

“I’ll be out in a minute,” Harry replied, feeling frustrated as though a moment had slipped through his fingers.

He stood, his knees popping, and dusted his hands across the backside of his jeans before turning back to Maggie. She had pulled her legs up to the couch and tucked them underneath her. She gazed up at Harry and a quiet moment stretched between them before she seemed to come to herself.

“Do you want to see my masterpiece?” she asked, and just like that the friendly banter was back, but there was an undercurrent of something more that had Harry’s nerves on fire.

He laughed, reaching one hand up to run across the braids, “Yeah, I suppose I should. I need to see what I’m subjecting myself to out there.”

She rolled her eyes, and flicked open her phone. She pointed it in his direction and he struck a pose: one hip popped out, his right hand resting on it, the other cradling his chin. Laughing, she snapped the picture and twisted the phone so he could see it. All in all, it wasn’t that bad of a look on him, but the glee on Maggie’s face as she reached out to pull on one braided pigtail was more than enough for him. He reached out a hand for her, which she gladly took, and he pulled her off of the couch so they could walk out into the arena together. She pulled her hand away the moment she had gotten to her feet and Harry had to stretch his fingers, opening and closing his fist, as the skin warmed where it had touched hers.

“So?” he heard her ask him.

“So what?” he replied

“Do I have to do your tour laundry?”

He sighed heavily as the boys caught sight of him and erupted into whoops and hollers. “No, you don’t have to do my tour laundry.

* * *

 **_2020  
_ **The second he had heard the car door slam he was out the door with his arms wide. She looked as beautiful as ever - her brown hair thrown into a messy bun, a slouchy black sweatshirt hanging off of her frame. She had brought several bags worth of clothes, various entertainment, and a backpack stuffed full of things she would need to continue to work from home for her marketing firm. He had wrapped her in a giant bear hug and was instantly transported back to all the times he had seen her on the road where the smell of her perfume had been a source of comfort to him. He had tucked her under his arm, placing a chaste kiss on the top of her head that definitely wasn’t because he wanted to feel her silky hair under his lips. The moment she had wrapped one arm around his waist, leaning into his embrace, he realized he was going to be ok.

He had helped her carry her things to an empty guest room and then left her to freshen up as needed. He puttered around his kitchen trying to keep his spinning mind focused on one task - filling two glasses with champagne and whisking some eggs in a bowl before pouring them into a pan - but the moment she reappeared in his kitchen it was hard to focus on anything but her. Momentarily speechless by the effortless beauty she seemed to emanate, Harry simply handed her a flute of champagne and clinked it lightly against hers.

“What’s all this for?” she asked, taking the flute from his fingertips.

“To celebrate no longer being lonely,” he replied.

She laughed and took a delicate sip of the champagne. They stood in silence in the sun drenched kitchen, gazing at each other, and Harry suddenly felt like he had been transported back to when he was a lovesick teenager. It was a feeling he thought he had moved past a long time ago, but there was something about her blue eyes looking up at him through her lashes that had his stomach flipping. He swallowed hard, gulping down his champagne for strength, and turned his attention back to the eggs sizzling in the pan in front of him.

“Scrambled eggs and champagne,” Maggie said, a smile in her voice, “A dinner of champions.”

Harry laughed, risking a glance back at her. “Of course. Only the best for the best house guest.”

Maggie batted at his arm lightly, laughing quietly at him. “Anything less and I’d be out of here.”

He knocked a hip into hers and she laughed again. The easy banter lifted his heart and he couldn’t help grinning at her. 

“Do you need any help?” she asked, smiling back at him as he scraped at the bottom of the pan to keep the eggs from sticking.

He thought for a second, peering around the kitchen. “You could put some bread in the toaster, if y’want,” he said at last.

She nodded, taking another quick sip of her champagne, and squeezed past him. At the feeling of her hand trailing across his shoulder blades, Harry had to take a quick moment. He closed his eyes and blew a hard gust of air through his nose before attempting to focus on the eggs again. He made to show her where the bread was, one hand raising to point towards the pantry, but his voice died in his throat when he turned to her. Her sweater, a size or two too big as she had always preferred, had slipped off one shoulder, exposing her tanned skin and drying up all the moisture in Harry’s mouth. He could see the darkened lines of a tattoo on her shoulder and he cleared his throat, attempting to discern the design.

“Mags,” he started, eyes still on the tattoo.

“Hmm?” she replied, intently focused on feeding slices of bread into the toaster.

“Wha’s that on your shoulder?”

She paused, looking over her shoulder at him. Her left hand crossed over her chest to grip her right shoulder as though she was just as confused as he was about the in. She smiled sheepishly at him and pushed the lever on the toaster before turning to face him, leaning against the counter.

“Oh - uh - I got a new tattoo a few months ago.”

“Well obviously,” Harry scoffed, clicking off the stove and moving the pan off the hot burner, “What did you get done?”

“It’s a sunflower,” she said and, at the sight of his beginning smirk, she pointed one finger at him, “But it wasn’t because of you or your song.”

He crossed his arms and quirked an eyebrow at her, “I never said that it was.”

She scrunched her nose at him, narrowing her eyes as he started to chuckle. Finally she ducked her head to examine her toes and Harry could hear her start to laugh as well.

“I got it done on a whim before this whole pandemic thing happened,” she said at last, tipping her head back to look at him, “Maybe I had your song in my head when I did it.”

“Well I think it looks beautiful,” he said, pouring himself another glass of champagne and refilling hers in the process. He plucked his glass off of the counter and tipped it in her direction, “regardless of the reasons behind why you got it.”

She dipped into a small curtsey in acknowledgement for the compliment, but she didn’t offer any further information on the meaning behind the tattoo. Harry found himself feeling a little disappointed. She jumped when the toaster chimed, the freshly toasted bread popping up. Wordlessly, she found a couple of plates and began buttering the toast, before bringing the plates to him, where he split the eggs between them

They ate quietly standing next to each other at the kitchen island, a subtle awkwardness between them. Harry felt frustrated, unsure as to why he suddenly couldn’t function around this woman he had practically grown up around. While he racked his brains to come up with something to say to her, she cleared her throat.

“I was sorry to hear about Love on Tour,” she said, one hand covering her mouth as she continued to chew, “I was really looking forward to coming to see you.”

“Yeah, it was an easy call to make - I don’t want to risk anyone’s health, especially my fans - but I was still pretty gutted.” He tipped his head back to the ceiling. “It’s hard to not be doing _something_. I feel like my feet have been cut off.”

Maggie laughed, knocking one hip into his, “I know, it’s weird seeing you in one place like this. Some of my favorite memories of you were seeing you in your prime during some of the One Direction shows.”

He scoffed, pushing back against her with his shoulder, “I hope my prime hasn’t already passed.”

“You know what I mean,” she replied, “I was always super jealous of your tour stories.”

Harry finished his eggs, dropping the plate into his kitchen sink and making a mental note to clean up later. He turned back to Maggie, his brows lifted. 

“Really?” he asked, “Why?”

She rolled her eyes at him, taking one last bite of her eggs and handing her empty plate to him. “I mean apart from the obvious fact that you and the guys were living the life of rockstars?”

It was his turn to roll his eyes, “You mean the months and months on the road, living out of suitcases and hotel rooms, stuck with a bunch of smelly dudes who spent their time by either farting or flirting with random girls?”

“Come on,” Maggie laughed as he poured her another drink. His brain was beginning to feel a bit fuzzy, but that didn’t stop him from killing the bottle, “you know that that is not true. You forget that I was there for at least the last little bit of your final tour. There were definitely some gross times, but a lot of the time you were just four dudes hanging out. That sounds like a dream.”

He shrugged, smiling to himself at the memories she was stirring. He ran a hand through his hair, already growing out from the short amount of time he’d been in isolation. Her eyes followed the movement and he realized they were thinking of the exact same moment.

“I could braid your hair,” Maggie murmured, reaching out to tug on the curl that had flipped into his face.

He tried to laugh, but it came out as a smirk and a huff of air. “I don’t think my hair is quite long enough this time around.”

She returned his smirk, her head tipping back to investigate his hairline. “I bet I could still make it work. What do you say? For old times sake?”

The promise of her fingertips in his hair was too tantalizing to pass up regardless of the repercussions it was inevitably going to cause. Harry considered her proposition for a brief moment before nodding, his voice failing him.

“Ok, on one condition,” he replied as she began to smile in triumph, “We get to watch a movie of my choosing.”

She nodded and held out a hand which he took bemusedly. She shook it like they had struck the business deal of the century and then hurried back upstairs to look for the hair ties she had tucked away in one of her suitcases. He let her go, venturing instead towards his living room, feeling slightly dazed and a little reckless. By the time she had returned, holding up a ziploc bag of tiny, plastic hair ties triumphantly, he had gotten control of his heart rate and had queued up a movie at random. 

“Pride and Prejudice?” Maggie asked, her eyebrows lifting as the piano music began to play over his speakers, “I didn’t take you for the historical romance type, Styles. Are you trying to wine and dine me?”

Unable to come up with a good enough answer, Harry just glared at her. “You know many women would say I _am_ the romantic type, but I can change it if it's too much for you to handle.”

Maggie rolled her eyes, pulling herself over the back of his couch and settling in next to him. “No, no, this movie is one of the greatest movies ever made. We’ve started it now. We have to finish it,” she patted the front of the couch below her, “Come on. Assume the position.”

Laughing to himself, Harry pulled himself off of the cushions next to Maggie and settled himself on the floor below her. This time around she didn’t have a comb or a brush to untangle any knots in his hair so he felt her fingertips at his scalp a lot sooner than he expected and the sudden contact made him jump.

“You ok?” she asked, bending down to peer around his shoulder at him.

“Yeah,” he replied a little shakily, “Y’finger just got caught in my hair is all.”

She ruffled his hair a little bit and he smiled at the feeling, “I’ll try to be more gentle then.”

They sat in companionable silence for awhile, occasionally discussing the movie or remembering some long forgotten tour memory that had resurfaced because of their close proximity. Since his hair was much shorter than the last time she had braided it, Maggie took her time weaving tiny braids into his hair and this meant that he felt her fingers on his skin more than ever. It was difficult to pay attention, especially when she started a braid at the nape of his neck where the pads of her fingers brushed against the soft curls there. He was thankful the sun had gone down and that he hadn’t thought to turn any lights on in the room because otherwise he was sure she would have seen the goosebumps rising on his neck or realized that he was subconsciously tipping backwards into her hands.

“I think I’ve done all I can,” she said at last as Mr. Darcy began his long trek across a misty field, “You are all braided out.”

He ran a hand across his head and it definitely felt full of woven strands. He pulled himself off of the floor, knees still cracking, but this time with an extra ache at the base of his spine - the curse of getting older, even at 26 - and settled himself back on the couch next to her. Without a word, Maggie plucked her phone off the couch beside her and held it up towards him. He struck a pose, resting his chin in the ‘v’ shape of his hands, and grinned. He squeezed his eyes shut as her flash went off, momentarily blinding him even with his eyes closed. Already laughing, she flipped the phone towards him, showing him the picture.

“We should send this to your mom,” she said, still chuckling, “so she knows you’re doing ok.”

“We send this to my mum and she’s going to think I’ve lost my mind,” he responded, taking the phone and closely examining the photo. He stole a glance back at Maggie, “But maybe it would be a nice surprise for her. Is it ok if I send myself this picture?”

She nodded, reaching forward to pause the movie as Mr. Darcy rained kisses across Elizabeth’s face. Harry fiddled with her phone, opening up Maggie’s messaging app, and selecting his name before attaching the photo in a message. Something about the small picture at the top of the screen made him pause.

“Mags, is my contact picture from the last time you braided my hair?” he asked, incredulously.

She gasped, reaching forward to attempt to snag the phone out of his hand. He held it high above him, his eyebrows raised as he expected an answer. She scrambled over him, her fingers scrabbling at his wrist just a few centimeters away from her phone.

“Ok, yes it is!” she said at last, still trying to swipe the phone from his hand. “I see so many damn photos of you looking fucking gorgeous it was nice to have one ridiculous photo of you that only I knew about.”

Harry laughed, hoisting her phone higher. “So you think I’m fucking gorgeous?”

She let out a tiny scream of frustration, raising onto her knees to climb further over him. Finally able to reach she snatched her phone out of his hand, exclaiming in triumph, It was then that they both had the sudden realization of the position they had gotten themselves into. She had practically moved herself to straddle him and he had curled his arm around her waist to keep her steady. She balanced herself against him, her hand pressed to his shoulder, her fingers flexing against the ropy muscles there. Their noses were mere inches apart and he could see specks of grey scattered within the galaxy of her blue eyes. Her cheeks were flushed and her tongue darted out quickly to wet her lips. Harry swallowed hard, trying to think of something coherent to say.

Then she was pushing herself off of him, leaving space on the couch for a whole other person even though they were the only two in this giant, empty house. Silent, Maggie pressed play, but the movie didn’t help quiet Harry’s pounding heart as Mr. Darcy placed one kiss onto Elizabeth’s lips and the screen went dark. In the reflection of the darkened tv, Harry could see Maggie, her lips caught between her teeth as she snuck a confused glance back his way.

* * *

 **_2015  
_ **“I can’t believe you talked me into this,” Maggie said, sweeping her hair off her neck as she swayed with the motion of the tour bus.

Next to her, Liam laughed. He leaned back against the couch, resting one arm over the back of it and, by proxy, almost around Maggie’s shoulders. Harry, plucking gently at Niall’s guitar across from the two of them, did his best not to notice. Niall, seated next to him helping correct his finger placement, didn’t even seem to notice the rigidity of Harry’s spine as Liam leaned closer to Maggie. She had joined this leg of the tour just a few weeks prior, having finished up her junior year at university. At the time, Harry had thought inviting her for the summer would be great. He always felt like he performed better on stage knowing she was there cheering him on and it was always comforting to talk to her late into the night about everything from the most mundane concerns to genuine topics of discussion while the rest of the world seemed asleep around them

Instead, however, Maggie had spent her time with all the boys - letting Niall teach her easy chords on his guitar, playing pranks on all the others with Louis, and, to Harry’s dismay, developing a close friendship with Liam: _too close_. There was no reason Harry should be angry at either of them - he obviously had no claim over Maggie - but he couldn’t help himself from brooding.

“You could’ve said no,” Liam laughed and Maggie tossed her hair over one shoulder to smile slyly at him.

“You know I can’t say no to Harry,” she replied, punching Liam lightly on the knee and winking quickly back at Harry, “Besides, I thought it would be a nice change from campus, but I forgot you guys live like frat dudes.”

“Hey, I take offense to that!” Niall exclaimed, tearing his attention away from Harry’s chord progression to glare half-heartedly at Maggie.

She laughed again and, despite Liam’s hand curled around Maggie’s shoulder, Harry couldn’t help himself from smiling back at her.

“You’re probably the worst one of all of them, Niall,” she replied, winking at him as his mouth fell open again in indignation, “but in all honesty, you’re all disgusting.”

“And yet, you’re still here,” Harry responded, tipping his head towards her and earning himself a warm smile.

“And yet,” she responded.

They smiled at each other, her blue eyes locked with his green, and Harry felt that familiar feeling of a moment slipping him by. He was playing the guitar softly - not even really playing a song - and the look in her eyes caused his fingers to slip. Next to him, Niall scoffed. He reached forward and adjusted his hand on the neck of the guitar.

“You’ve got your hand in the wrong place,” he chastised, curving Harry’s hand more comfortably around the instrument.

Harry tore his gaze away from Maggie to focus back on the notes and his finger placement and Niall gave a small sound of triumph when the melody started up again. When Harry turned back to Maggie, a proud smile across his lips, his fingers slipped again. In the few moments Harry had been focused elsewhere, Liam had pulled Maggie into a quiet conversation, his head dipped close to hers. Despite being only a foot or two away from them, Harry felt like he was peering through the window at an intimate moment. He couldn’t quite hear what they were saying to each other, their voices just a murmur and the sound of the road beneath them a dull roar, but Harry felt his lungs squeeze when Maggie leaned closer to Liam, probably struggling to hear Liam just like Harry. Whatever Liam was murmuring in her ear was making Maggie blush, a small smile curling slowly across her lips. Harry felt a roiling jealousy in his gut and hated himself for feeling it. He stood suddenly, thrusting the guitar into Niall’s arms and nearly tipping into the couple across from him as the bus hurtled around a curve on the highway.

“Liam,” he said suddenly, his mouth reacting before his brain could catch up. The older boy looked up at him concerned, his brow furrowed. Harry did his best not to look at Maggie. “I just remembered, I think I somehow got some of your clothes in my stuff.”

There was a beat of silence.

“Ok?” Liam responded, looking confused. He glanced between Maggie and Niall as though they might understand what was going on, but Niall just shrugged and Maggie was gazing up at Harry as though he had lost his mind

“Would you come double check with me?” Harry responded, feeling his cheeks heat, “I just don’t want to forget about it and then you’re one sock down at our next show.”

Liam still looked puzzled, but he shrugged and stood, following Harry back towards the bunks. Louis had disappeared behind one of the curtained bunks an hour ago citing the need for a nap and a small part of Harry’s mind wondered if Louis was listening. For a split second he considered dropping the matter, telling Liam ‘ _never mind_ ,’ and letting the chips fall where they may. But the sight of Maggie smiling shyly up at Liam had burned every other rational thought out of his brain. When they arrived at Harry’s bunk, located at the back of the bus, he whirled to face Liam.

“What are you doing?” he asked, his voice low and heated.

“I’m following you to see if you stole one of my socks or something, I guess,” Liam replied, still looking confused.

“No, I mean what are you doing with Maggie?”

There was a moment of silence where Liam regarded Harry with the same confused look and then something clicked into place behind his eyes. He took a small step back, raising his hands in a placating gesture.

“We’re just friends mate,” Liam responded, looking quickly back towards where Maggie and Niall were chatting, “I mean, I’m not going to lie, I think she’s gorgeous and if I thought I’d have a chance with her I would love to take her out, but I’m not going to do that to you. I know you like her. It’s hard not to see that.”

And there it was. The guys had been teasing him about Maggie for years, mocking him every time he smiled at a text message on his phone or mimicking him in a high pitched voice when he hung up after one of their marathon phone calls, but none of them had ever come right out and said it to his face. _I know you like her._ He didn’t know if he wanted to admit it. Harry ducked his head down, fiddling with the hem of his tee shirt, letting his hair fall into his face. He thought hard for a moment and then tipped his head back to meet Liam’s still concerned gaze, a smile plastered to his lips.

“Mags is one of my closest friends,” he heard himself say, “I just want to make sure you’re not going to hurt her.”

Liam narrowed his eyes, examining Harry’s face. He wasn’t sure if Liam was buying the act - Harry himself wasn’t even sure he’d buy his act - but then Liam gave a tight nod.

“You know I wouldn’t,” Liam responded at last, “but seriously, I won’t do anything at all if you don’t want me to. We’re brothers first and foremost.”

He reached a hand out to Harry’s shoulder and squeezed. Harry tried to give Liam a more realistic looking smile and nodded. Liam gave him one last searching look and then headed back towards the front of the bus. Harry watched him settle next to Maggie and wished he could stop his stomach from flipping or his heart constricting when Maggie’s face lit up as Liam rejoined the conversation. 

“You’re a terrible liar, you know that, right?” he heard Louis say.

He had pulled the curtain of his bunk open and was gazing up at Harry with a concerned look in his eye. Harry leaned his forehead against the cool sheets of his unmade bunk and closed his eyes for a moment, attempting to block everything out.

“Well, Liam seemed to buy it,” he mumbled.

“Bullshit,” Louis scoffed, “No one bought that. You didn’t even buy it. But you know if you don’t make a move sooner or later someone else will.”

The front half of the bus erupted in laughter and Harry, glancing back at the noise, watched Maggie tip her head back onto Liam’s shoulder as she lost herself in whatever joke Niall had just told. For a moment, Harry contemplated heaving himself onto his bunk, closing the curtain, and withdrawing himself from the rest of the world, but then Louis was swinging his legs out into the aisle and offering him a hand.

“Come on, let’s go back out there,” he said, a look in his eye Harry couldn’t quite place, “I think I have a plan.”

They rejoined the group as Niall was finishing up his rendition of Barbie Girl - a song he had been teaching himself slowly throughout the tour. Maggie’s cheeks were flush with laughter and her eyes gleamed when she saw Harry sink back into his seat across from her.

“Welcome back,” she said, “I trust you guys sorted out your laundry situation.”

Liam didn’t say anything, leveling Harry with a searching gaze that Harry did not reciprocate. Instead, Harry nodded, leaning back more comfortable on the sofa, kicking his feet out so they reached across the aisle and rested gently against Maggie’s ankles.

“We should play a game or something,” Louis said, settling on the floor next to Harry, scrunching into the space between couches.

“What do you have in mind?” Liam asked, leaning around Maggie to look fully at Louis.

Harry had a sudden sense of foreboding. He cursed inwardly at himself for not asking about this ‘plan’ earlier and snuck a glance at Louis. They made quick eye contact before Louis had turned back towards Liam and the gleam in his eye made Harry nervous.

“What about truth or dare?”

Harry clapped a hand over his eyes, groaning. Niall, still strumming nonsense on his guitar, let out an excited yell, and Harry heard Liam suck in a breath as the suggestion took him by surprise. He half-hoped Liam would shut down the game before it even got started. He had always acted like the caretaker of the group, keeping the boys out of trouble, and this seemed like the perfect time to step in and push the boys in a different direction. However, when Harry pulled the hand off of his eyes, he saw Liam sneak Maggie a quick look. She was grinning at Louis, her smile bright.

“Oh, I am so down!” she exclaimed, practically bouncing on the couch.

“Brilliant,” Louis said. He adjusted a little on the ground, attempting to find a more comfortable position and gazed around at the faces above him, “Ok, let’s see - Niall, truth or dare.”

Niall grinned and considered a moment, “Dare.”

Louis’ smile was almost feral, “I dare you to let Maggie do your make-up.”

Niall’s grin vanished within a split second. He darted an anxious glance at Maggie, looking slightly apprehensive. She winked at him and he took a deep breath, “Alright, let’s do it.”

“Great!” Maggie cheered, leaping off the couch to dig up her make-up bag from her nearby suitcase. Clutching the bag in hand, she approached him, choosing to sit by Harry to get closer to Niall, “Scootch over, Harold. I need space to create my masterpiece.”

Harry shifted, allowing Maggie into the small space next to him. She was twisted away from him, already at work picking out different jars of make-up Harry barely understood, but space was limited and suddenly they were joined from hip to calf. Harry shot a glare back at Louis who didn’t make eye contact, looking like he was having the time of his life.

“Alright, Niall, your turn,” he said, smirking.

Maggie leaned back from painting Niall’s face with a foundation that was obviously not the right shade for him. He considered his options. His eyes shot to Liam, who was watching the proceedings anxiously.

“Liam, truth or dare.”

Liam ran a hand through his hair, his eyes darting between Maggie and Harry. “Uh - truth.”

Niall and Louis booed and Maggie tossed one of her make up brushes at Liam who barely caught it. He smiled at her, throwing the brush lightly back to her, and Harry clenched his fist. Niall cleared his throat, attempting to get the attention back on him.

“Liam,” he began with the air of one of the many interviewers they had met over the years, “What is the dumbest thing you’ve ever done?”

It was Niall’s turn to deal with a tough crowd as Louis and Maggie turned their dismay towards him. Niall screeched in indignation as Maggie attempted to draw an ‘L’ on his forehead with eyeliner. Even Harry found himself laughing as Maggie tossed a smile over her shoulder at him when he joined in with the chorus of boos.

“That’s a terrible question!” he exclaimed.

“I panicked!” Niall responded, still leaning away from Maggie as she loomed ever closer with the stick of eyeliner, “There’s a lady trying to poke my eye out over here!”

“Oh hush,” Maggie replied, grabbing Niall by the chin and holding him still.

Liam was quiet, still considering his answer, “Does this game count?”

“Of course it doesn’t, Liam,” Harry responded, shifting slightly to relieve the pressure of Maggie’s thigh against his.

Liam huffed, glaring at him, “Then probably agreeing to take the bunk below Niall. He farts so much and it smells so bad!”

“Oi!” Niall exclaimed again, attempting to pull his face away from Maggie with no luck, “That is not true!”

“You don’t have to live through it like I do, Niall!” Liam shouted back and the game dissolved into momentary chaos as Niall finally ripped himself away from Maggie, and launched himself at Liam in playful roughhousing.

Suddenly Harry found his arms full of Maggie as she leaned quickly away from Niall’s flailing limbs. Subconsciously, he wrapped his arm around her middle, his hand resting on her hip. She was close, closer than she had been the entire time she had been touring with them and it was difficult for Harry to focus on anything else around him. She looked a little dazed herself as she slowly lifted her eyes to meet his, her hand linked with his at her waist. Next to him, Louis cleared his throat and Liam and Niall stopped smacking at each other. Feeling ridiculous and a little breathless, Harry pulled his arm away from Maggie, scrubbing vigorously at his face hoping she would fall for the ruse of something caught in his eye.

“Liam, I believe it’s your turn,” Louis continued, once things had quieted down.

“Ok - well, since you started this ridiculous game - truth or dare, Louis?” Liam asked.

“That’s an easy one. Dare.”

Liam furrowed his brow a moment, thinking. A moment later his eyes lit up. “Ok, I dare you to let Harry draw whatever he wants on you with a permanent marker.”

Louis let out a surprised bark of laughter, “Brilliant! I have to admit, I was not expecting that one, Payne.”

Liam looked pleased with himself, dusting off his shoulder with one flick of his hand. Next to Harry, Maggie chuckled and he felt that jealous feeling tighten at the bottom of his stomach again. Niall located a Sharpie from somewhere near the sofa and he handed it off to Harry, grinning. Louis pulled his sweatshirt over his head to reveal the tank top underneath and Harry took a moment to examine the exposed shoulder. Louis’ arms were already covered in various tattoos, but Harry thought he could see a good spot for his artwork tucked under his shoulder blade.

“You’re going to love my drawing so much that you’ll have to get it done for real,” he said, ruffling Louis’ carefully messy hair.

“Yeah, yeah, Styles. I’ll believe it when I see it,” Louis responded, pulling his head away from Harry’s fingers, “We all know you’re just going to draw a willy.”

“You have absolutely no faith in me,” Harry responded with exaggerated hurt and set to work drawing exactly that. Maggie leaned closer to see his artwork, her chin tucked over his shoulder and he felt her vibrating with quiet laughter. Her perfume invaded his space, and he felt the grin blooming across his face.

“Alright, Mags,” Louis was saying as he attempted to keep himself as still as possible, “Your turn. Truth or Dare.”

Maggie tipped away from Harry, surveying Louis. Harry dared a quick glance back at her. She was gazing at each boy in turn - Niall with one heavily lined eye, Liam looking anywhere but back at her, Louis with half of an almost anatomically correct penis drawn on his shoulder, and finally at Harry so close next to her. She took a deep breath as though girding herself for the shock of diving into cold water and shut her eyes tight like she was about to rip off a bandaid.

“I may regret it, but - dare.”

Harry didn’t have to lean forward to see that Louis was grinning broadly, his shoulders stiffening. Whatever he had been planning had all come to this. It wasn’t until his lungs began to ache that Harry realized he had been holding his breath.

“I dare you to kiss Harry.”

The dare hung in the air for a brief moment, settling around them like fog. Across from him Liam and Niall were silent, Liam intently examining his shoelaces, and Maggie next to him had gone still. Only Louis seemed to still be breathing, but even he seemed to sense that he may have overstepped.

“Really Louis?” Maggie said at last, sounding exasperated, “I’m the only girl playing and _that’s_ the dare you come up with?”

Louis shrugged, looking sheepish, and Harry was torn between feeling appreciative for being willing to take the fall for him and feeling irritated that Louis had gotten him, Harry, into this mess. He could tell by the rigidity of Maggie’s spine that she still had her issue with the dare, but he wasn’t sure he could trust himself to spare a look at her. He wasn’t quite sure how he felt about the dare and that in itself was concerning to him.

“Are you telling me you’re not going to do it?” Louis countered, straightening his shoulders.

A long moment stretched amongst the group and Harry, unable to stop himself, risked a glance back at Maggie in an attempt to get a read on what she was feeling. She was glaring down at Louis, but there was a defiant gleam in her eye that tied his stomach into knots.

“No, no, I’ll do it,” she replied and Harry felt his stomach move into his throat.

“Don’t sound too excited, love,” he quipped, attempting to sound nonchalant and look cool as he finished up Louis’ tattoo and capped the permanent marker.

Maggie shifted in her seat, scoffing at him, and turning bodily to face him. She pulled the leg that had been pressed to his onto the couch, and in the new position, the top of her foot curved slightly around his knee. Harry focused on it for a moment, unable to make himself look her in the eye. He was afraid if he made eye contact she would realize how fast his heart was beating or see the excited smile threatening to bloom across his face. He made a mental note to beat the shit out of Louis when this was all over, but for the moment his brain was short circuiting.

She reached out one hand to cup his cheek, pulling his face gently up to look at her. He could feel his breathing kick up a notch and he did his best to hide it from her. His green eyes met her blue and, for a quick moment, the rest of the bus and the world fell away. She looked just as uncertain as he felt, but the feeling of her hand on his skin was so delicious it was hard to breathe. It couldn’t have been more than a second or two, but Harry felt like the world slowed to a near stop around them. She pressed lightly on his cheek and he followed it, twisting his torso towards her, his hand curled around her ankle as it had so many months ago when her fingers had been in his hair. She bit her lip, worrying the skin between her teeth, and then leaned forward, her eyes sliding shut. He studied her face in the moment of calm before the storm: her long lashes brushing the tops of her cheekbones, her cheeks a light dusty pink, her lips slightly darker. He took a deep breath and met her in the middle.

It was a quick press of her lips to his, but it felt like so much more. Her fingertips played lightly over the curve of his jaw and, without thinking, his hand followed the line of her right leg, releasing her ankle and resting at the swell of her hip. He felt himself pull towards her as she pulled away, wanting _more;_ like the feel of her hands in his hair or the weight of her body on his. All he could see, smell, and feel was Maggie. It was simultaneously the best kiss he had ever had and the most confusing and, when he opened his eyes, he saw the same feeling reflected back in her eyes. Everything and everyone was silent - Harry couldn’t even hear the sound of the bus moving below him anymore. Then Maggie’s eyes darted away from his, looking around her, and he remembered he was surrounded by the boys he considered his brothers and that the world was still turning beneath them.

She looked uncomfortable and Harry followed her gaze to where Liam sat, unable to meet either of their eyes. Harry’s heart, moments ago soaring, quickly deflated and he felt like the world’s biggest asshole.

“Um - Niall, I have some make-up wipes to help you get that off,” Maggie mumbled, wiping the back of her hand slowly across her lips, not making eye contact with anyone as she pushed herself off of the couch, careful not to make contact with Harry’s skin. Niall, shooting a worried glance back at the remaining boys, followed her without a word.

“Liam -,” Harry began as she and Niall disappeared down the narrow aisle, but Liam shook his head, holding up one hand.

“You don’t have to say anything,” he responded. He rubbed one hand across his brow and then stood, “It’s late. We have a show tomorrow and I need some rest. G’Night boys.”

The moment he was gone Harry leaned heavily against his knees, his head in his hands, hating that his lips still slightly tingled at the memory of her. Louis was silent, fiddling with his fingers in his lap, eyeing Harry guiltily.

“So that didn’t go exactly how I planned,” he murmured finally.

“Y’think?” Harry scoffed.

Feeling wretched, he pushed himself off the couch and back towards the bunks. Liam had already vanished behind the curtain of his bunk and Harry didn’t even try to come up with what he could say to him. He could see Niall hunched over the small sink at the very back of the bus, while Maggie watched him scrub at his face with a make-up wipe. She met Harry’s gaze across Niall’s back and the tight smile she offered him and the confusion in her eyes broke what was left of his battered heart. He gave her a half-hearted smile and pulled himself onto his bunk, sliding the curtain closed.

* * *

 **_2020  
_ **“I can’t work another minute,” she said, snapping her computer shut with a satisfied click.

Harry, playing around on his guitar on the couch across from her, looked up at her in surprise, “Work that hard?”

She sighed, shoving her laptop under the armchair she was curled up in and tipping her head back, eyes closing. “If I have to answer one more email about what font to use or what specific ugly color they want to ‘ _represent their brand_ ’ I may scream.”

He strummed another chord, “Could be a good sound to use for my next album.”

They had just passed a month of quarantine and, aside from the momentary awkwardness on Maggie’s first night at his house, her presence had been a godsend for Harry’s mental health. He didn’t realize how lonely brewing coffee was by himself until he had another person to brew coffee for. They had fallen into an easy rhythm; it was almost like being back on tour. They took turns taking care of each other. He was usually the first to wake in the morning and would have her coffee warm and waiting for her when she made it to the kitchen looking adorably disheveled an hour or so later. She had become his sounding board for whatever song ideas popped into his head and she didn’t laugh no matter how ridiculous the lyrics actually turned out to be. Sometimes, when he passed by the room she had commandeered as her home office, he could hear her humming quietly to herself and he always did his best to decipher what song had been caught in her head. Occasionally it was one of the original One Direction pop songs that made him smile, but when he caught her humming one of _his_ songs he could feel his breath catch.

However, a month _had_ passed and it didn’t look like the quarantine would be letting up anytime soon. Maggie hadn’t said anything about returning back to her own residence and Harry was slowly coming to realize that she needed to be here with him just as much as he needed to be with her, if nothing else than to keep each other sane in a world that had gone slightly insane.

Harry strummed one last time across the guitar strings and then leaned it gently against the couch. Once the sound had died, Maggie’s eyes opened, waiting to see what his next plan was.

“Do you want a drink?” he asked, elbows on his knees as he gazed back at her.

“Are you mixing?” she asked and he chuckled.

“Who else is going to do the mixing, love?” he asked, “I think by now you’ve realized that I do not have a butler hiding in my house.”

He stood, crossing the room to the bar tucked away in the corner. As he passed, she flipped him the bird and he reached out to snag the offending finger. She caught his hand, examining the chipped polish on his fingernails.

“You really need a manicure,” she replied, running a finger across the jagged edges of the paint.

Harry laughed and examined his other hand. “Yeah, I don’t think there are many opportunities to go out and do that these days.”

She groaned, throwing her head back in a dramatic flourish. “I know. I’m so tired of being stuck inside. I just want to be able to go to a restaurant or a movie again.”

“Tell you what, darling,” he began, resuming his trip to the bar now that Maggie’s hold on his hand had slackened, “I think I may have some nail polish under the bathroom counter. You pick me out a new color and I’ll make us some drinks and we can sit out back in the sun.”

Her eyes glittered with a happiness he wished he could look at forever and her lips curved into an excited grin.

“You’re on Styles,” she said, pulling herself out of the chair, “Make mine extra strong. I’m feeling dangerous tonight.”

She disappeared into the hallway towards the bathroom and Harry busied himself with making the drinks, grinning to himself. He was thankful he had restocked the bar before the pandemic had halted the entire world and so the options of drinks were pretty open. He recalled past years he and Maggie had gone out to bars and clubs to dance and remembered her preference for sweet, fruity drinks that had a high alcohol content, but little to no bitter alcohol taste. He could hear her crashing around the bathroom, searching for the nail polish and, by the time he had put the finishing touches on the drinks, she had reentered the living room triumphantly holding up nail polish remover and cotton balls in one hand and a deep purple shade of polish in the other.

“Brilliant,” he said, his hands likewise full with two glasses of watermelon margaritas. He gestured towards the screen door leading out to his back porch, “Ladies first.”

She winked at him and, with a little difficulty, slid the patio door open before stepping outside into the warm air and sunlight. She bypassed the patio chairs entirely, plucking a couple of fat cushions off of the couches and emerged fully into the sun, tossing the cushions onto the sun soaked deck and sinking onto one with a satisfied sigh. She crossed her legs underneath her and tipped her face towards the sun, eyes closed. Harry could have sworn she radiated light itself and he had to remind his feet to move. He sunk into the cushion she had tossed across from her, handing her one of the glasses when her eyes met his. She took a quick sip and smacked her lips, smiling.

“Watermelon margaritas?” she asked and he nodded, “They’re delicious, but you do know that Watermelon Sugar is already like everywhere, right? You don’t have to pretend you’re on a press junket anymore.”

He laughed and clinked his glass against hers, “Just enjoy the drink, Mags. It’s sweet and will get you drunk.”

She took another gulp, eyes glittering at him from over the rim. “You’re right. It’s my favorite.”

Carefully placing her glass down next to her, Maggie gently unscrewed the top of the nail polish remover and tipped it a couple of times onto a cotton ball. She held out her hand and he slid his palm into hers, relishing the feel of her soft skin on his. The cotton ball was cold, the liquid within it rolling down his fingers and dripping onto the wooden patio beneath them. 

“Would you rather lose the ability to read or lose the ability to speak?” Harry asked suddenly, wanting to break the silence that was stretching between them.

Maggie gave him a quick glance, obviously surprised by the question, but she didn’t immediately say anything. She leaned back for a moment, taking another sip of her drink. 

“Probably the ability to speak,” she said at last, “I don’t think I could handle not being able to read. Also I feel like I’ve gotten myself into so much trouble by not thinking before I speak.”

Harry chuckled, watching her hands as they rubbed gently at the stubborn paint on his nails. Once she had finished scrubbing at his pinky nail he placed his other palm in her hand, allowing his fingers to curve over her wrist for a quick moment.

“What about you?” Maggie murmured back to him, her voice barely louder than a whisper.

“That’s a tough one,” Harry replied, lifting his eyes to the dusky sky as he considered his options, “If I lose the ability to speak do I also lose the ability to sing?”

Maggie laughed and she lifted her head from focusing on his fingers to look him in the eye, “You asked the question!”

“Yeah, but this is your game now.”

“Fine.” As she thought, Harry took another gulp of his margarita, feeling the warm tingle of the alcohol settle in his stomach. “Let’s say you can’t speak, but you can sing.”

“Ok, then I’d probably lose the ability to speak as well.”

She tossed the used cotton balls in a pile next to her and shook the small bottle of nail polish, a crooked smile on her lips.

“It would definitely be interesting to go to a Harry Styles concert if Harry Styles could only sing. How are you going to poke fun at the crowd if you can’t talk to them?”

He shrugged, watching as she pinched his thumb between her fingers and swiped the brush across his nail. She painted slowly and methodically and Harry wondered if she was feeling the dizzy feeling of the alcohol in her brain like he was beginning to.

“I suppose I would just have to mock them through song,” he replied and she chuckled, the warm air blowing across his fingertips, “I bet the ladies would love a gender reveal song.”

“Do you prefer your tours now that you’re solo or do you miss touring with the guys?” her voice was quiet and she didn’t look up, choosing to focus more intently on his fingers.

He blew out a gust of air as he considered the loaded question. “I mean, that’s difficult to answer,” he replied, “Touring on my own is great because I have complete control on what songs I sing and what the event itself looks like. I love touring with Mitch and Sara and all of my team, but touring with the boys was something else entirely.”

Maggie snuck a glance back up at him, smiling at the wistful look on his face. “I’m glad I got a chance to experience at least a little part of touring with the guys. Some of the best nights of my life were on the road with you.”

Their eyes met in a loaded look, but her gaze skittered away and she took another hasty gulp of her drink. When she turned her attention back to his finger nails, her cheeks were a healthy pink and her hand trembled a little as she continued to paint. He could feel his blood pounding in his ears and the alcohol swirling in his system prompted his next question.

“When you were on tour with us did you and Liam ever -,” he trailed off, not sure if he wanted to hear the answer.

The look she leveled at him was blazing and he wished he had kept his mouth shut, but then her gaze ducked away and she cleared her throat.

“Did we ever hook up?” she asked and Harry held himself very still, hating himself, “Um - not during that tour. We went out to dinner a couple of times after you guys had taken your break.”

Harry nodded fervently, trying to ignore the feeling of his stomach in his throat.

“After probably the third date we realized it would be best if we just stayed friends,” she avoided eye contact, working on painting his other hand, “I still text with him occasionally. He sends me pictures of Bear almost weekly.”

“Yeah,” Harry forced himself to say, his mouth dry, “he sends me those too. I was - uh - I was just wondering. I remember you guys being pretty close while you were with us.”

“We were?” She asked, sounding confused.

He shrugged, examining the drying paint on his free hand. “I thought so.”

“I didn’t realize Liam and I were being anything, to be honest,” she replied, leaning back to better examine her work, “I’m sorry if it - I don’t know - if it made it uncomfortable for you.”

He scoffed, wishing he hadn’t even asked the question, “Y’didn’t. It was five years ago and we’re friends.”

Their eyes met again and it was his turn to look away, blowing gently on his fingernails.

“Right. Friends,” was her whispered reply.

She reached back for his other hand, applying a second coat. He watched her for a quiet moment, his gut roiling and his blurred mind attempted to find a way to smooth out the bumps his question had caused.

“What prompted your question?” he heard her ask quietly without looking up.

“Oh um,” he scrambled for words, “No reason. I was just thinking back to the few months you were one the road with us and -,” He trailed off, realizing the hole he was digging himself into a split second too late, “- and I just remembered playing Truth or Dare with everyone.”

At those words, Maggie froze. She capped the nail polish and leaned back to lift her eyes up to his. There was no doubt about it, everything around them seemed to stop. Even the setting sun seemed to darken, as it dipped behind a cloud. He wanted to say something, _anything_ , to defuse the tension, but his gaze was locked on hers and he couldn’t pull away.

“Truth or Dare,” was her only response.

She set aside the nail polish, though his left hand was still needing a second coat of paint. Attempting to hide his shaking fingers, he took another sip of his drink though the ice had mostly melted by this point and the drink itself was incredibly watered down. His throat felt dry and he licked his lips.

“Yeah, and I remember that night ended kind of abruptly,” he continued, not knowing exactly where he was going, “but we never really talked about it. I - uh - know that it’s been several years, but I wanted to apologize for that night.”

Her brow furrowed and she cocked her head slightly to the side. “Apologize? Why?”

He wasn’t expecting that question and he stumbled a bit on his words. “Um - I just remember it being awkward for a while and I know we never talked about it. So I’m sorry for that night and anything afterwards.”

She sat rigidly on the cushion across from him, her expression guarded. She fiddled with her fingers in her lap, avoiding his eye contact. There was so much more he wanted to say, he could feel it bubbling up his chest, but when her eyes finally met his they were closed off.

“You don’t have to apologize,” she murmured to him, “It was only a game. It meant nothing more than that.”

She could have punched him in the gut and he would have felt less winded. He blinked quickly for a moment and then nodded, plastering a smile on his lips.

“You’re right,” he said, proud of himself for keeping his voice steady, “Just a game. Nothing more.”

* * *

 **_2015  
_ **“To Maggie!” Liam cheered, raising his glass and smiling around the table at Louis, Niall, Harry, and Maggie herself.

It was the night before they were supposed to drop Maggie off at the airport to return her to university to complete her final year at university. Though things had gone somewhat back to normal after the Truth or Dare fiasco, there were occasional moments where things had been almost unbearably civil and Harry fluctuated wildly between wanting to scream and wanting to pretend like nothing had happened. He had been watching her quietly out of the corner of his eye when he knew she wasn’t paying attention, checking to see if she was just as confused as he was, but she was difficult to read. 

The concert that night had been one of their best, full of banter and cute interactions with the crowd, but the second they bounded backstage after the encore Harry found himself bouncing on the balls of his feet wishing they had another hour of songs to go. Maggie, waiting backstage as always, had pulled each boy into a tight hug and Harry could see the gleam of unshed tears in her eyes. It hadn’t taken much to talk everyone into grabbing a couple of pints at a nearby bar to celebrate Maggie’s last concert with them. They had gathered around a table in a darkened corner, attempting to keep a low profile, but Harry had been quick to order a round of shots.

“To Maggie,” Harry murmured, tipping his glass in her direction. Across the table from him, Maggie gave him a small smile.

She gazed around the table, tears gleaming in her eyes, “I’m really going to miss seeing you guys.”

Louis wrapped an arm around her shoulders and squeezed. “You don’t have to go back,” he replied, smirking at her, “You could just stay with us until the bitter end.”

She poked him in the side, laughing as he cringed away, “I can’t just be a groupie for the rest of my life no matter how tempting that sounds.”

Harry grinned at her across the table, the smile widening as he watched a similar smile curl across her lips. He tossed back his shot, smacking his lips as he felt it burn down his throat. Looking satisfied, Niall tipped his chair back on two legs, eyeing the bar.

“Looks like the bar isn’t too busy,” he called over the thumping music, “I’ll get the next round. Will one of you gents help me carry it all back to the table?”

Louis hopped out of his chair and a split second later Liam followed. Niall looked a little surprised.

“I just need one of ya,” he said, exasperated.

Liam looked uncertainly over his shoulder at Maggie and Harry, his expression clouded. He shrugged, offering Niall a small smile. “The more the merrier, right?”

Niall shrugged, “Sure. Come along then.”

And suddenly Harry and Maggie found themselves alone in the corner of a crowded room. She looked like she wanted to say something, her eyes darting to his and away again. He tapped on the surface of the table, his leg shaking on the chair below him. He hesitated a moment and then scootched one seat at a time until he had rounded the table and settled in the chair next to her. Her eyes met his and he caught a whiff of her perfume. 

“You look great, by the way,” he blurted out.

Her lips curved into a crooked smile and she ducked her head down to examine what she was wearing as though she had forgotten. They had had minimal time between exiting the stage and crowding into an SUV to get to this club, but in that short amount of time she had managed to exchange her comfier clothes for dark black skinny jeans and a velvety black halter top. The sight of her tanned skin had sent Harry’s heart into his throat, and because of that, he insisted she take the passenger seat just so he didn’t have to risk making a fool of himself next to her on the ride over. Now, however, in the dim lights and the taste of vodka on his tongue, Harry had to clench his fists to keep himself from tracing the line of her neck down her slim shoulder.

“Thanks,” she murmured, looking back up at him through her lashes. Harry thought he might have a heart attack right on the sticky bar floor, “I’d say you clean up nice yourself, but you’re still in your sweaty concert clothes.”

His mouth dropped open in comical surprise. “My sweaty concert clothes? _My sweaty concert clothes?_ ” 

He lunged for her, wrapping his arms around her shoulders, and nuzzling her neck in an attempt to swipe his sweat on her. She let out a loud screech of laughter, attempting to push him away from her, and Harry felt like he could finally breathe again.

“What’s all this then?” he heard Louis ask, a hint of laughter in his voice.

Harry stilled his attack, turning back to the returning boys. He was slightly breathless and the knowing look in Louis’ eye made him shrug slightly, a little sheepish.

“Maggie said I smelled bad,” he called and Maggie slapped at his arm indignantly, “So I’m showing her that I am not, in fact, smelly.”

“That is not true!” 

The boys gathered around the table, passing two drinks back towards Harry and Maggie. They fell into a comfortable conversation - swapping stories from the tour and making jokes about the people they’d seen in the crowds of their concerts - but Harry only had eyes for Maggie. Even with the lights dim and the music thumping in his ears, Harry could see the rosy flush of her cheeks and a slight drunken haze in her eyes. Her blue eyes met his green and his breath caught in his throat. He ran a hand through his hair, forcing himself to look away from her. Maggie cleared her throat and leaned onto the table.

“I believe you boys promised me dancing,” she said, her smile crooked on her lips.

Across the table, Liam laughed and took another sip of his drink. Grimacing slightly at the taste, he stood and offered her a hand.

“Would you like to dance, Maggie?”

Harry could feel his smile slide off his face as Maggie placed one hand dramatically to her collarbone. Liam laughed at her atrocious acting and played further into her act, dropping to a deep bow. Maggie slid her hand into Liam’s outstretched palm and he pulled her up out of her chair.

“Why yes, Liam, I would,” she laughed and Liam tugged her towards the dance floor, spinning her once before they squeezed through the wall of people across the room.

Harry caught a waitress on her way past their table and ordered another round of drinks, doing his best to keep his gaze away from the dance floor. He could feel Niall and Louis exchanging glances across the table from him, but he didn’t say anything until the waitress returned with another shot and a plastic cup filled to the brim with beer.

“You might want to slow down, mate,” he heard Louis say as he downed the shot and followed it up quickly with a deep gulp of beer, “You want to enjoy your last night with Maggie.”

Harry laughed humorlessly. “How exactly am I going to enjoy the last night with Maggie? Most of the time I can barely look at her without feeling like an idiot.” He took another gulp of beer and glared at Louis. “I blame you for that, by the way.”

Louis shrugged, putting his hands up in the air in a placating gesture. “Look, I did what you were too scared to do. Besides it looked like you were having a good time while we were off getting more drinks.”

Harry gave a noncommittal noise unable to stop himself from searching the dance floor for Liam and Maggie. He thought maybe he could see them twirling around wildly, but then the crowd shifted and he lost sight of them.

Niall leaned heavily on his elbows across the table, “Look Harry, I love having Maggie on tour with us and I’ll be gutted when she goes, but we all know how awful you’re going to be when you can’t see her every day.”

Harry glared at him, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You just get a bit moody, tha’s all,” Niall replied, shrugging.

“Just talk to her,” Louis said, interrupting Harry before he could retort, “If nothing else just tell her how much you’re going to miss her. Niall’s right - you’ll be insufferable if you say nothing.”

Harry played with the half-empty cup on the table in front of him, brooding silently. He took another quick peek at the dance floor easily locating Liam and Maggie. Liam had leaned in close to Maggie’s ear, jerking his head back towards the table, but Maggie shook her head, twisting gracefully away from him to continue dancing, her arms curved over her head. Liam laughed at her and shrugged, pushing off the dance floor, headed back towards their table. When he rejoined the others, he was out of breath.

“She has endless energy, that one,” he said, grinning.

Harry watched her closely - winding her body to the music, her eyes closed. He could see several men and even a couple of women eyeing her, but, for the moment, she was alone, in her own bubble in a sea of people

“You should join her,” Liam’s voice surprised him. Harry turned back to the older boy, surprised. Liam shrugged, nodding his head back towards the dance floor, “It’s obvious you want to.”

There was a beat of silence where the other three surveyed him across the table. Harry’s hands felt clammy when he stood and jerkily turned towards the dance floor. He crossed the bar but, before he had fully entered, he lost his nerve. He turned back towards the table - Niall and Louis were already in conversation, but Liam was still watching him and his nod of encouragement was what sent Harry the remaining few feet.

It took a bit of shoving to find his way to her, as the dance floor was jam packed with people. She was in the thick of it, still wrapped up in the music, twisting her hips in a way that made it hard for Harry to concentrate, and didn’t immediately realize he was approaching until they were inches apart. Her smile was instantaneous and he felt his anxiety ease a little.

“Hi,” she said, practically yelling over the music.

“Hello,” he replied, grinning, “May I have this dance?”

It was still the middle of whatever thumping song had been playing, but Maggie laughed - the sound lost in the noise - and nodded. Feeling brave, Harry placed one hand on her hip and brought her close to him, wrapping his arms around her back. Maggie’s arm snaked up his shoulder and around his neck, her fingers curling around his long hair. He could smell the alcohol on her breath as the space between them narrowed and their bodies pressed together. They swayed gently together, completely disregarding the tempo of whatever club music was playing. She gently laid her head against his shoulder, tucking underneath his chin. Harry took a deep breath and pressed a cheek into her hair.

“‘M really going to miss you, Mags.”

“Me too, H.”

She could probably feel the pounding of his heart. He took another breath and pressed on.

“I just wanted you to know -,” his mouth felt dry and he swallowed hard, “- that I have enjoyed every minute of you being here.”

She pulled her head off his chest, gazing back up into his eyes. There was some emotion he couldn’t quite read on her face, but then, like a curtain falling, the look was gone and she was offering him a hesitant smile.

“H, you know I’m not dying, right? I’m just finishing up my degree. I’m probably going to call you tomorrow night whenever I get back in.”

He laughed, tipping his head back towards the ceiling, and tightened his hold on Maggie. “Mags, you know what I mean. I’m glad you’ve been here with me. For all of it."

There was no mistaking it, confusion and another complicated emotion he still couldn’t read rippled across her face, and she took a shaky step back from him. The world around him seemed to shrink and he felt like he was drowning.

“Harry, I - I can’t,” she was saying, her voice sounding garbled like she was under water. 

He thought he could see the beginning glimmer of tears in her eyes, but then she turned and began pushing her way off of the dance floor. He stood stunned for a moment before his brain reconnected with his legs and he realized he needed to go after her.

“Maggie, wait -,”

She was already halfway across the bar, headed towards the exit, one hand pressed against her mouth. He caught a glance of the boys watching Harry chase her across the floor, various degrees of concern playing across their faces. Liam was already out of his seat, ready to follow Maggie out the door, but only made it a few steps around the table before he made eye contact with Harry and faltered. His lips tightened into a thin line and Harry, swearing under his breath, ducked his head and followed Maggie’s heels out the door.

He burst into the warm summer night air, breathless. At first she was nowhere to be found and he was sure he had lost her - that maybe she had caught a taxi and escaped or had ducked into one of the nearby shops or restaurants to escape him - but then he caught a glimpse of her brown curls ducking around the corner of the building into a darkened alley. He steeled himself and jogged after her, stopping just at the entrance to the alleyway. She leaned against the brick building, her hand still pressed to her mouth as she attempted to catch her heaving breath, her eyes still swimming with tears.

“Mags -,” he whispered and she stepped further away from him into the alley.

“Don’t Harry, just don't,” she hissed back at him, “You can’t just do that to me.”

He took a hesitant step forward and, when she didn’t say anything more, he took another.

“Do what?”

“You know what I mean,” she replied, tipping her head back against the brick, closing her eyes for a moment, “Acting like nothing has changed when you haven’t been able to look at me properly for a month.”

“I don’t - I haven’t - that’s not true,” he attempted, but she let out a humorless laugh, sniffling.

“I’m going to kill Louis,” she muttered, more to herself than to him.

He responded anyways, “You’ll have to get in line.”

Her blue eyes opened again and they stared at each other for another moment. A tear slipped onto her cheek, trailing slowly down her skin and he found himself crossing the gulf between them in three quick steps to swipe his thumb across her cheek. He heard her breath catch in her throat as, suddenly, they were face to face.

He could have pulled away. In fact, he _should_ have pulled away. He should have stepped back and left it at that; apologized for whatever awkwardness they had been dancing around and pretended like things were back to normal when she was his friend and nothing more. Instead he left his hand curled around her cheek, thumb caressing her warm skin. Her eyes were still shining with unshed tears, but she had lifted her hands to his half-buttoned shirt, crumpling the pink polka-dotted fabric tightly between her fingers and she stared back at him with a burning look that set his skin aflame.

“Harry -,” she whispered, but he didn’t let her finish.

He crashed his lips down against hers, one hand bracing himself against the wall, as he poured every confusing emotion he had been feeling the last few months - really the last few _years_ \- into a fiery kiss. She was stunned only for a moment, but then he felt her fists, already holding tight to his shirt, tighten even further, pulling him closer to her. He stumbled a little, catching himself by wrapping his free hand around her waist and hauling her against him. She slipped her hands into his shirt, nails scratching at the planes of his chest and he let out a groan. Leaving one hand burning on his skin, she lifted the other to his cheek, a light whimper escaping her throat. He shifted his hold on her cheek, burying his fingers in her hair, and pulling her face closer to him as he angled his head and slipped his tongue between her lips and for a moment it was perfect.

Then the moment was over. Maggie’s hands, once so soft, shoved hard and he tripped away, nearly falling to the ground. She was glaring at him from across the alleyway, her lips swollen. For a fleeting moment he thought maybe she was going to say something, or maybe even slap him across the face, but then she straightened her shoulders and turned back towards the street.

“Maggie -,” he tried, reaching one hand out towards her, but she hailed a cab and disappeared down the street.

He squatted in the alley, head in his hands, trying to figure out where exactly things had gone wrong. Then three pairs of feet stepped in a loose ‘u’ around him. When he looked up, Niall, Liam, and Louis were regarding him with concerned looks. Louis offered him a hand, which he accepted, pulling himself back to his feet.

“What the hell happened?” Niall asked, looking around the alleyway, “Where’s Maggie?”

“She’s probably gone back to the hotel,” Harry muttered.

“What did you do?” Liam accused.

For a moment they glared at each other. Harry considered going postal, shoving Liam, and blaming him for everything that had happened in the last few months, but the moment was fleeting and then all he felt was guilt. He took a deep breath, blowing out a gust of air.

“It doesn’t matter now,” he said at last, “Let’s just go home.”

He considered knocking at Maggie’s hotel room door when he got back, but he didn’t know what he could say, especially considering he hadn’t been able to get that first feeling of that kiss out of his head. He had a singular moment of weakness where he ducked his head out of his room, ready to knock on her door despite still not having a game plan, but Liam was already there, conversing quietly through the crack she had opened in the door and Harry’s gut tightened. Swallowing whatever feeling he refused to analyze, he gently shut his door determined to forget everything that had happened that night.

The mood the next morning was more than somber. In normal circumstances - circumstances where Harry hadn’t been a complete idiot and ruined everything he had going for him - everyone would have been the normal amount of quietly distraught over losing someone who had become a valued member of their team, but the memory of the night before tainted every minute of their goodbye especially as Maggie and Harry did their best not to look at each other. Unable to go any further than the security checkpoint - as well as trying to look inconspicuous even though it was _One freaking Direction_ \- the five of them stood awkwardly for a moment unsure how to even begin to say goodbye. Finally, Maggie stepped forward, wrapping her arms around each boy in turn.

“Bye, guys,” she murmured, placing a chaste kiss on each boy’s cheek, “Thanks for having me.”

“Come back whenever you want,” Niall responded.

“Especially if uni gets too stressful,” Louis chimed in.

Maggie gave a sad chuckle, “I’ll keep it in mind.”

“Be sure that you do,” Liam said, ducking his head to meet her eyes. The smile she gave him was warm, but Harry was too distraught by his own crumbling relationship with her to care.

Teenage girls were starting to cluster, realizing who was standing in the airport. Security had done their best to keep them away, but it was clear that the heaving crowd was going to get out of control sooner rather than later. Exchanging wordless looks, Niall, Louis, and Liam stepped back to greet them and Harry was momentarily thankful for the time he had alone with Maggie even with the awkwardness hanging thick over them. He shoved his hands in his pockets, unable to look at her.

“Have a safe flight,” he managed, inwardly cringing at himself.

“Thanks, I will,” she replied, “Though I don’t know if I really have control over that aspect.”

He risked a glance up at her and she offered him a small smile. He returned it, feeling uncertain. Clearing his throat, he looked back at the crowd, knowing his limited time with Maggie was drawing quickly to a close.

“Listen, I’m sorry about everything,” he blurted, feeling his heart racing, “Your friendship means the world to me and I don’t want to jeopardize that.”

She nodded, twisting her fingers and avoiding his gaze. “I’m sorry too. We had too much to drink and emotions were already high. You’re one of my best friends, H. I can’t lose you because of one small mistake.”

She stepped forward, hesitating for a moment before wrapping him in a tight hug. He allowed himself a brief second to sink into her arms, his hands tight across her back and his nose deep in the curve of her neck breathing in the perfume he would never be able to get out of his mind. He knew he should be happy - that there wasn’t any lasting damage to their friendship, at least on the surface, and that she was smiling at him again - but something felt like his heart was shattering in his chest.

“I’ll call you, ok?” she said, as she pulled away. Wordlessly, he nodded. “Don’t work yourself too hard.”

She turned away to join the line, handing her passport to the security guard, and giving Harry one last wave before she disappeared behind the security gates. He watched the empty space she had just left, wishing that life was like one of their songs and that she would come sprinting back towards him, confessing her love for him or at least offering him one last kiss that would give him some hope, but it didn’t take long for him to realize that wasn’t going to happen. He sighed, gritted his teeth, and plastered on a big smile that he turned back towards the crowd. Only the other boys seemed to realize how fake it was.

* * *

 **_2020  
_ **“Dance with me,” if he hadn’t been looking at Maggie, Harry wouldn’t have realized she had actually said anything.

“Sorry?” he asked, pulling his headphones fully off of his ears.

She looked awkward, dipping her gaze to her toes, rocking back and forth on the balls of her feet. It had been several days since she painted his nails on the deck and, while they hadn’t said anything more about what had happened, their discussion had followed them around every room and tainted every interaction. They had already been practically dancing around each other, exchanging fervent smiles and darting glances. Her request was so sudden and unexpected that Harry half-thought Maggie had actually lost her mind.

“The sun is out, I can’t make myself work any longer, and I miss hanging out with you,” she replied, shaking her hair out of her eyes so she could level her gaze at him, “We can’t safely go out for drinks and dancing, but we can throw a private dance party for two outside.”

He could feel the smile begin to pull at his lips and he nodded, snapping the journal he had been scribbling in shut. 

“Ok, Mags,” he said, pushing out of his chair. She held out a hand and he took it, allowing her to lead him through his house and out onto the patio. 

She must have been working quietly on this plan while he was distracted trying to work on some new songs. She led him down the deck stairs, into the springy green grass that tickled the arches of his feet. An old looking boombox was nestled in the blades of grass, an aux cord looped lazily around it, attached to Maggie’s phone.

“Where did you find _that?”_ he asked, pointing to the dusty piece of outdated tech.

She leaned over, pressing play on the screen of her phone, and he heard the beginning notes of _Drag Me Down._ She turned back to him with a mischievous grin on her face.

“You really need to clean out your garage more,” was her simple reply before she reached out for his hands again.

He let out a laugh as she began an awkward hop skip to the beat, using his hand to twirl herself in dizzying circles. She was singing along to the music, already a little breathless, and Harry couldn’t stop himself from joining in, losing himself in her ridiculous dance movements. Slowly they became more comfortable around each other, pointing at each other as they both belted Harry’s solos at the top of their lungs. The song faded into another One Direction song - _Night Changes_ \- and Harry let out another laugh, his hands on his hips as he attempted to catch his breath.

“Is this just a One Direction dance party?” he called to Maggie, spinning by herself across the lawn. When she stopped, she stumbled a little, a mischievous glint in her eye.

“Let’s just say I’m going through a One D phase right now,” she replied and she began serenading him, dramatically stalking across the yard at him, “Don’t worry, I only put a few songs in the queue. Then we can listen to some _real_ music.”

His jaw dropped in mock anger and he rushed her, wrapping his arms around her middle and lifting her across his shoulder and spinning. She screamed, partially in terror at suddenly being in the air, but then the scream dissolved into uncontrollable giggles as she smacked helplessly at his back. 

“Put me down!” she screeched and he spun her one more time before depositing her on the grass at his feet a little harder than he intended.

“Christ! I’m sorry,” he exclaimed, hurrying forward to check on her, “Are you ok?”

She didn’t answer, completely unable to speak as she lost herself in laughter. Her head was thrown back, brown hair catching on the blades of grass, her arms wrapped around her middle as she attempted to regain control over herself. Her eyes were glittering with tears when she was finally able to open them and he offered her a hand to help her back to her feet. Instead, when she grasped his hand, she planted her feet and pulled and, unbalanced, he tipped over into the grass next to her. They lay there for a moment, laughter slowly quieting, and Harry tipped his face to examine her profile.

“I missed this,” he murmured.

She turned to meet his gaze and their noses brushed just barely.

“Me too,” she replied, “I’m sorry about everything.”

He nodded, not trusting himself to say anything more, and reached for her hand. She let him take it, lacing her fingers through his and squeezing. The song on the boombox shifted and he rolled his eyes when another One Direction song - _What Makes You Beautiful -_ began playing. She chuckled and nudged his shoulder.

“Last song I promise,” she said, her smile radiant. 

She was so close to him, he could see every single eyelash and the specks of other colors within her eyes. He thought about kissing her - it would be ridiculously easy, just a twist of his head and a hand on her cheek - but things felt normal between them for the first time in a _long_ time and he didn’t want to be the one to ruin that. Instead, he focused back on the clouds in the sky, wiggling a little in a mock dance move, as he sang along with the younger version of himself.

“ _Baby you light up my world like nobody else.”_

She chuckled again and he felt her tip her head onto his shoulder, squeezing his hand. As the song faded he heard the beginning notes of his own song _Falling._

“You know, this is my favorite song,” he heard her murmur and he held himself very still.

“Really?”

“It’s beautiful,” she whispered, “You can feel yourself falling back into your old ways, but all you want to do is be a better person for the people you love.” 

She sang softly along with the lyrics, her voice light and clear. Then she was pushing herself to her feet, offering him a hand.

“Dance with me,” she said again, but the mood had shifted and Harry felt uncertain as he sat up and placed his hand in hers.

His eyes were locked on hers when he got to his feet, snaking one hand around her waist, and pulling her close. They swayed in place for a moment, her voice still mixing with his recorded self, her eyes still searching his. She slid her hand from his, skimming her palm up his forearm, across his bicep, and stopped at the curve where his shoulder met his neck. He wrapped both his arms more fully around her body, and the space between them narrowed even further. He could feel his heart pounding, his breath catching as she toyed with the short hair at the nape of his neck. He could tell she was thinking hard, considering her next actions, and he forced himself to stay quiet.

“H -,” she started, “I have to tell you something.”

He cleared his throat and nodded, still not trusting his voice. His song faded into silence, but they remained swaying in the backyard. Maggie dipped her head down, watching their feet as they shuffled slowly to an imaginary song. The silence was almost unbearable, but he waited. She took a deep breath and looked back up at him, a familiar look blazing in her eyes.

“I’m not actually sorry.”

That took him by surprise and he momentarily lost the rhythm, briefly pressing on her toes. He murmured an apology that she waved away.

“Let me explain better,” she said, sheepishly, “I’m - uh - I was never sorry about what happened between us when I toured with you guys. I was confused at first and reacted poorly, but when I got home I realized all I wanted was to be with you. I’m sorry that I didn’t say anything sooner, but you seemed so adamant to pretend like nothing had happened and I didn’t want to risk losing you.”

Harry’s mouth had gone dry. He didn’t think he could make a sound even if he wanted to. His hands tightened on her hips and Maggie’s eyes skittered away from his again. When she spoke again it was almost a whisper.

“I forced myself to move on, but being here with you for the last month has made me realize that I’m never going to get over you,” she looked up at him and away, “I just wanted you to know.”

They slowed to a stop, but didn’t move away from each other. Harry was realizing he should speak, but his brain wasn’t working anymore. Maggie looked unsure and vulnerable, and began to pull away, already starting to apologize for creating further awkwardness between them. She had ducked out of the cage of his arms and was turning to lift the boombox off the grass, when he caught her hand. 

“Mags, wait,” he began, “don’t go yet.”

She regarded him warily, hand still clasped tightly in his. He took a deep breath, heart still pounding.

“I’m not sorry either,” he said at last, “Kissing you back then was the most confusing and the most exhilarating thing I’ve ever done. I never wanted to confuse or hurt you, and I thought it would be best for both of us if we just pretended like it never happened, but I couldn’t do it. I could never forget how you made me feel.”

Her eyes were wide and she looked a little bit like she was gasping for air. He soldiered on.

“Christ, it has taken everything in me not to fuck up being with you now like I fucked up being with you then,” he said, his breath leaving him in a rush, “but all I wanted then and all I want now is to be with you.”

There was a beat of silence where they regarded each other across their linked hands and then she took a few hurried steps back towards him, throwing her arms around his neck and kissing him. He didn’t even hesitate, wrapping his arms completely around her, lifting her practically off of her feet. She raked her fingers through his hair and he let out a groan, flexing his fingers against her shoulder blades. He thought he could feel wetness on his cheeks and he didn’t know if it was because he was crying or because she was. He ran his hands down her body, loving the way her curves felt on his skin and bent slightly, catching her thighs and hoisting her up so she could wrap her legs around his waist. She giggled, running both her hands through his already messy hair.

“I love you, H,” he heard her whisper against him and he thought maybe his heart would explode. He pressed another burning kiss to her lips and began a slow march back into the house trying to navigate without pulling himself away from Maggie.

“I love you too,” he replied, pressing her quickly against the glass patio door to trail open mouthed kisses down her neck. 

She threw her head back, exposing more skin for him to explore, her eyes closed. She quietly patted at his bicep and he dropped her gently back to the floor. Her hands met his chest and she gently pushed him away from her, a movement that made him slightly anxious until she reached for his hand. When he linked his fingers through hers, her lips spread into a slow and sly smile before she pulled him through his living room and up the stairs towards his bedroom. She tipped him onto the foot of his bed, wasting no time to pull his shirt over his head. He groaned as her lips trailed up his left arm, caressing each tattoo, her nails scratching at the butterfly on his stomach. When she bent to press her lips to where her fingers had just been, he pulled her face back up to his and rolled her beneath him.

* * *

The sun was bright in his eyes when he woke up the next morning. His body was deliciously sore, but he didn’t attempt to move. Maggie’s head was tucked under his chin, lips pressed lightly against his neck, and her arm was thrown over his middle, curled underneath his side. She must have been dreaming, her lips murmuring against his skin, and he reached his free hand over to gently tuck her hair behind her ear. She nuzzled at the touch and he could feel her eyelashes fluttering as she woke. She pressed a quick kiss to the skin underneath his ear and lifted her head to look at him.

Her hair was a mess, a beautiful mess, and he was sure he looked similarly disheveled. They smiled at each other for a quiet moment and he pulled himself up slightly to press a kiss to her lips.

“Morning,” she whispered, sleepily.

He hummed in reply, tucking her hair behind her ear again and taking in every detail of her face. She blushed at the intensity of his gaze and ducked her head back down on his chest.

“So,” she started. 

He wrapped his arms tightly around her. “So.”

“What do you want to do today?”

He grinned and forced himself to get up out of bed, finding his discarded underwear, and pulling it on. He didn’t exactly have a plan, the pandemic made it difficult to plan for anything career-wise at least, but he knew at least that, for right now, he was going to make Maggie some coffee and then spend - hopefully - the rest of his life with her. She watched him from the rumpled bed sheets, head propped on one arm, the arch of her back exposed. He knelt across the mattress, and pressed one last kiss to the inky sunflower tattooed on her shoulder and smiled at her as she attempted to pull him back into bed with her.

“I don’t care,” he replied, “just as long as it’s with you.”

_FIN_

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was inspired by another fic I found on tumblr by sunflowervolvimp3. The fic in particular is titled Changes, but I highly recommend checking out their other works if you have a chance. Their other fic (which I read after starting to write this one), 42 Hours, may have actually changed my life.
> 
> Thank you for reading and helping me with my obsession!


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